


Into The Abyss

by Tales_and_Chains



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M, Gen, and welcome Lydia to the story!, as now there's a little hotness going on, as they happen, as well as add'l characters, lengthy piece, upping the rating, will probably add relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-08-26 18:34:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16686751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tales_and_Chains/pseuds/Tales_and_Chains
Summary: Just a day in the life of Nord orphan, Ahren. A little chaos, a little mayhem, you know how it goes. After all, what's an adventurer to do, when dodging dragons for a moment?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> No betas here. Just me. Any errors in lore are mine and mine alone. I did try to keep things as canon as I could, however I do go a little divergent here and there. I didn't feel like rewriting the game, after all. But, having played it as many times as I have, and as much as I love the whole idea that surrounds Nirn, I had to.
> 
> Ahren is my OC that I play on the game. Nord orphan, dumped off at the Temple of Dibella in Markarth. I'll probably delve more into his backstory as I go. Each chapter should be able to be read as a standalone, whilst still being connected to the whole. 
> 
> Also, am not shelving the idea of romance. Could come. I'll update tags as necessary. Enjoy and thanks for reading! Kudos are love <3

The endless expanse of frozen tundra gave way to steam-slick stone, carved with exacting detail by those who had been gone for longer than most could put proper thought toward. He had had to shed his fur-lined cloak when it became too warm and heavy, in the humid depths of the Dwarven ruin. Lanterns, that should have been long bereft of any form of illumination, hissed softly and gave off an eerie, inhuman sort of glow over the carved and painted reliefs that lined the tunnels.

It was as though the owners of the ruins were expected to return at any time.

Silence, punctuated by the sound of something far deeper within the dwelling, surrounded him like a plush coverlet. He hesitated to exhale too sharply, lest he break that careful quiet. Even the soft crunch of his boots against the gravel and ancient dust that covered the ground and all about him, was too much.

But, it was a damned sight better than freezing in the lands above. He paused, at the base of one of the semi-steep ramps, and gazed toward the ceiling. It, too, was carved and decorated by unknown and ancient hands. He could almost feel the weight of the stone that separated him from the world above. Shivering, he hoped that he either came out in the same place he'd left behind, or he could make it back to his cloak. It had cost a fair bit of gold, in Windhelm, and he held no desire to lose it. Debating heading back for it, versus delving deeper, he shifted the weight of his pack and started forward. He knew where the entrance was. He'd find his way back.

There was something further below that called to him. Whether it was the promise of treasures beyond imagination, or something far more nefarious and illicit, remained to be seen. Ahren listened to the rhythmic thrumming that fairly vibrated the very stone he walked upon and let it guide him further and deeper into the abyss, until he paused at a doorway. Ornate and worth more than most of the homes he'd seen in Whiterun, he huffed and considered its weight. If such a feat had been possible, he'd have removed it from its post and carted it off to the Blue Palace and seen his retirement from adventuring right then.

But, that was just madness and silence speaking to his mind. It whispered of things he knew would never come about, and he pressed on, pushing the doors open.

They gave way into a large, underground cavern. Across the way, he could see other, closed doors and balconies. It was truly a marvel. Stepping to the edge, he rested a hand against the carved column, and gazed upward. Melted snow and ice dripped from unseen heights, far above his head. He could only imagine just how far down he'd traveled, and let his gaze drop to the blackness below him. From the depths, he heard the skittering of things he would just as soon not put name or sight to. Creatures of the deep that should remain unmolested, in his opinion. He'd not come to fight, though he would protect himself. No, he'd come to see what form of answers could be gleaned from the ancients.

Why had he been brought back to this place? Why had the dragons? He knew the history of those that carried the dragon blood in their veins. Dovahkiin, they were called. For as long as any could recall, those who carried the form of Ichor within their very soul, had sat upon the throne of Emperor.

But, he was no royal son, to be worshiped and adored by the masses. No, he was an orphan, cast aside and forgotten by all but those within the temple in Markarth. Frowning, he tucked the thoughts away and visibly shook himself. He could not afford for distraction now. Especially, when he stood uncertain which direction would take him to his goal. Further down, he could hear the mechanical thrumming, but across the way lay another door.

He skirted across the crumbling rock and stone, noting that the carvings were less detailed in this cavern. Perhaps it was newer? But that wasn't it. No, this was not a place that those who had walked before within these halls, had spent as much time. The door opened slowly, admitting him into what looked like it had once been a living area. Plants that had no business growing so deep underground and away from the life-giving rays of the sun flourished, even absent the hands of their masters. He touched one and frowned, realizing there had to be a water source somewhere within the stone that was feeding the plants and keeping them alive. The brilliant sconce that hung above cast into stark relief everything around it. Perhaps it provided enough for the plants?

Whatever the reason, he moved away and skirted into the quarters of the first room just off of the courtyard. Upon the stone tables were sets of dinnerware, awaiting the food that would never come. The frown deepened and he wondered if the former inhabitants had simply vanished, in the midst of their mealtime. Or, perhaps, this was just how the tables were set. Always awaiting food, even when there was none coming. He rummaged through the metal cabinets and found little of worth, before moving further on.

That was when he saw it.

A small, mechanical creature moved as though living up and down the wide, stone stairs that led further into the depths of the living areas. Here, there was less damage to the facade of the stone. It merely looked dusty where no hands had been about to keep it clean. Intrigued, he skulked closer and paused in the shadow cast by one of the wall torches. It hadn't noticed him as yet and he knelt, just watching it. A guardian? That was his first thought. Perhaps a pet of sorts, awaiting masters that would never return. The thought saddened him, but the metal 'arms' appeared to be tipped with deadly-looking spikes. Whatever its purpose, he questioned whether he had the necessary weapon to see it properly dispatched.

Magic might prove useful, he thought, as he noted another shadow that was moving from below. The mechanical creature caught the movement with something other than eyes and went on the defensive. It sent bolts of lightning in its wake, before attacking the hulking shadow. Both went down gloriously and he shook his head, amazed. It saved him the trouble, but he suspected there would be more.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He reaches the end of the ruin, but the beginning of a new quest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Sorry for the delay. Got to playing the game and forgot myself on here xDD   
> Tentative plan, now that he's made it through the ruin is to have random one-shots around Tamriel. I do love the game and the idea of Ahren being able to explore.  
> As always, unbeta'd. All mistakes (both grammatical and lore-related) are mine and mine alone. I own nothing, save Ahren the Nord.

_Oh, there had been more. So many more._

Ahren had lost count of the levels in which he'd descended. It should have been dark, but for the strange, hissing torches that gave off a perpetual light. He'd have suspected magic, but the denizens of these underground labyrinths preferred to be more worldly. Less ethereal. 'Twas why they had cast aside the daedra and the Eight. Metal and machinery were their gods, and that was never more apparent as when he ventured from room to room and found himself knee-deep in eyeless terrors, tipped in death.

The arachnid-like creatures were nothing, however, to the rolling nightmares. Firing bolts that tore through both armor and flesh, he found himself hiding to keep from bleeding out, before rushing the metallic monstrosities until they finally collapsed.

The damage to his armor would need to be properly repaired at one of the forges within the cities. The skin beneath was still pink and newly healed, thanks to what little magic he commanded. He'd depleted his healing potions, odd as they tasted, and found himself in a bit of a quandary. But the creatures, both living and other, were decimated. He rounded a corner and paused, nose wrinkling in disgust. 

Ah, the strange, blind creatures he'd seen that had offended the metal beasts, had set up camp. Just a few, and they lay weltering in their own gore in the room before. Checking each strangely erected tent, he took what he could carry and tried not to imagine that the bloody hunks of meat had, at one time, been other adventurers. Were these the Falmer that he'd heard whispered about inside the taverns? Probably. 

Filthy. Disgusting. He pitied them, almost. 

There had been horrific tales of what the Dwemer had done to the race now known as the Falmer. Forced enslavement, poisoning on a massive scale; they were not the valiant souls they thought themselves to be. But then, who ever was?

His bag of carrying was lighter than it had been, but only because he'd found it necessary to remove items that no longer served him. He tucked it beneath his armor and tried not to imagine another battle with the wheeled sentries. And, pushing through the massive double doors, he found himself staring at a large, open cavern. Too far above to give proper thought to distance, he thought he could see light filtering down. 

Damn.

Metal spikes prevented entry and, as he crested the top of the large, ornately carved steps, he froze and leaned against the cool stone. More Falmer moved about in the low light cast by their respective fires. Not many, but they could pose a problem if he wasn't careful. Movements slow and precise, he moved to a small outcropping of rock to gauge his surroundings. How to get in without being detected? Clearly, what he wanted was on the other side of the spikes.

And then he saw it.

Above his head, with yet more of the hissing wall sconces, stood a balcony. More carved stone, he wondered if they had left the Falmer to guard the place from any who dared seek entry? A single skeever proved to be little trouble to someone who had faced down those metallic, wheeled beasts and survived. A dagger to the throat and the teeth closed no more about warm flesh. He was completely out of the herbal potions but, as he cleared the stone steps to the balcony, he lay against the massive stone slab and healed himself away from keen senses. If he wasn't careful, he'd exhaust himself of his magic and be discovered. But the Dwemer had been vain creatures and left untouched chests with reach of the large lever that brought the spikes down. 

Ahren did not trust, for a single moment, anything edible within the chests. There were a few vials, but he knew not how long they had been held within the dwarven metal. Even shaking the contents, he frowned as the fluid within moved. No. He would not poison himself over something so trivial. But, there were gems and a bit of gold contained within, that would help. It was a pleasant distraction until he knew he would need to see an arrow into the heads of the two Falmer sentries. 

The first went down with a choked hiss, attracting the attention of the second. It skulked around, trying to pinpoint where he was. Eyes narrowed and he focused on making no sound at all. Drawing the bow back, he aimed and waited for the Falmer to pause and let the arrow fly. The first arrow found purchase in its chest, taking it down, but not killing it. Frowning, he withdrew another arrow and aimed. This one found its mark and he breathed a soft sigh of relief. What wonders awaited him?

There were a few, salvageable supplies within the tents kept by the Falmer, though he found himself frowning. Why were there three tents erected and only two? Had someone come through and slaughtered one, only to close the spikes? Perhaps. Mindful that he was not safe, quite yet, he stepped slowly beyond the boundary of the spikes and into the stone structure that lay beyond.

It was truly glorious.

Ahren shouldered his bow and paused near the broken form of a giant, metal marvel. He'd not seen one like this before, and nearly missed when the other across the stone courtyard was released from its moorings. He froze against the cold metal, new arrows tucked into his quiver and just stared at the way it hissed and moved. Stiff, because it had clearly not been in use for many centuries, it twisted and jerked as it slowly fell into a slow pacing. But why? How? He had not made any noticeable movements, had he? Was it something more sensitive? He'd become almost lazy with the Falmer, as they couldn't see him when he moved past. So long as he'd been quiet, they hadn't been aware of his presence. Some, he'd let live, simply because they were just there. 

He was the trespasser.

But this mechanical curiosity had, seemingly, been aware of his very presence. Ahren shook his head and waited until it had its back turned and bolted up the carved steps until he could find a vantage point. Did he leave the guardian? What if it followed? He caught movement beyond the metal gate and suspected that that was where he needed to go. Had whoever it was that stood beyond take down the other sentinel? Expression was grim, but he brought forth his bow and aimed at the mechanism. The arrow looked as though it would strike true and the hulking metal form staggered, turning to see where the attack had come from. Ahren frowned, watching as the now worthless arrow dropped to the stone floor. The metallic tile beneath his boot trembled with every step of the sentry and he took aim, watching it stumble once again. If he could take it down, that might be enough. 

He hoped it was enough.

Eyes narrowed and he aimed again, aware that he was low on arrows. Each shot had to count, lest he find himself in hand-to-hand with the massive, metallic blade that it wielded. If he thought the wheeled beasts had been bad, he could only imagine what this one could accomplish. 

But then the massive gate opened, belching forth two warriors who were clearly ignorant of what had been happening beyond. They were both arguing loudly over a treasure and froze, seeing the giant sentry. Distracted, it turned and started for the pair, earning a squawk of surprise from the woman. She carried a shield that looked quite impressive. Still, neither she nor the man in Imperial armor, looked as though they were ready to face off against the gigantic wonder. Ahren wondered if it felt emotion, or was merely doing what its masters had put it forth to do.

Or, if such thoughts mattered.

He let the trio fight for a long moment, hunkered down upon a low, tile roof. There were times to interfere, and times to witness; and he saw no purpose to involving himself. No doubt, the pair fighting the great beast would turn upon him and he would see three-to-one rather than being able to aid them.

The great, Dwarven blade sliced a bloody swath through the pair. She fell first, entrails leaving a smeared path as she tried, in vain, to crawl away from her death. Thankfully, for her, the beast turned its attention to the other warrior. Ahren took pity on the woman and nocked an arrow, aiming for her heart. She gurgled, frothing blood, as it struck true and lay still. Unfortunately, such action drew attention. Both the sentry and the warrior turned to look at the woman for a moment, before turning attention to see where the arrow had come from. 

Damn!

He crouched low, thankful that the low lighting of the cavern gave him some anonymity. He needed that while he watched the pair slowly lose interest, returning to the battle that the adventurer was slowly losing. Blood darkened the tunic beneath heavy chainmail, and the man staggered. Ahren saw his chance and nocked another arrow, aiming for the sentry. If it fell, the warrior would be considerably easier to take down. And, if he yet lived, he could press to discovery their reason for being so far beneath the world of sunlight and chill.

Another well-aimed hit and the sentry staggered, going to one knee. The warrior, albeit slow, surged forward and drove his blade into the metal hull, sending it sliding backward down the stairs. It lay, smoking and sizzling, clearly done-in.

"I know I am not alone in this cavern. Come out!" His voice was as weary as his stance. 

Ahren stood, thankful the man was a simple warrior and no archer. "What is your purpose to this place?"

The adventurer kept his war hammer out, expression dark. "I am called Sulla and this is my discovery. You'd do well to leave this place and never return."

Ah, no answers, then. Ahren nocked another arrow, his last, and lofted a brow. "Are you certain you won't tell me your purpose?"

The Imperial glowered. There had been others, and their journals, indicating that a Sulla had been left in charge of the expedition. "Blackreach. We seek Blackreach. There is much to learn from the land beneath."

Lower? Fuck the gods, but Ahren had no desire to go further into the darkness. He wanted nothing more than to return to the surface, find his cloak, and seek out the accommodations of a town, where he might soak his weary bones and forget about treasure for a few days. There were plenty who were gifted in such arts, within the villages. And, he couldn't help but think of the pretty High Elf in Winterhold who had favored him with a smile. She would be helpful.

"I hold no such desires. I merely wish to leave this place with the breath still in my lungs." Ahren held no illusion that the Imperial would allow him to leave. But, they stood at an impasse. Slowly, still aiming that last arrow at the man, Ahren climbed down from the low roof. He'd seen no door beneath the roof, but that mattered not. Eyes did not stray from Sulla, where he awaited the Nord.

"Then, you have my deepest apologies." Honor, in this place? How odd. "I cannot allow you to take from this place any information as to my whereabouts." Sulla swung the mighty hammer and Ahren loosed the arrow, forearm tingling where he'd held it tight for so long. Dodging back, he slipped on loose rock from the cavern above and found himself sprawled upon his ass, forced to watch that hammer swinging an arc a mere hairsbreadth above his face. The Imperial gasped wetly, one hand leaving the hilt of the hammer to grasp his chest. 

The arrow had struck true.

The warrior was dead before his body fell back onto the ground and Ahren found himself relieved, even as the hammer clattered to the ground. He glanced about, making certain no one else was to join in on the battle, before collecting anything of worth from the trio of fallen forms. The great, gilded doors were open, saving him the trouble and he paused. 

The odd, crazed man of the north had given him a sphere, prior to his trek to the forsaken place. He strode forward and placed it in the receptacle, before scrambling away. The very ground beneath him rumbled, as though coming to life, and revealed a set of stairs. Intriguing. He suspected that that was the path to Blackreach and found himself morbidly amused. Sulla would have been forced to abandon his quest. Perhaps, 'twas why they fought within the gated area? They could go no further.

Temptation was there, but he knew he required more than what he currently carried. As with the other places housed within the Dwemer ruin, there were chests left behind. A few things of note, mostly coin and jewels, were pocketed to be sold later for more weapons and such. Just beyond another set of gilded doors stood another lever. Brow dipped and Ahren slipped between the doors praying to Dibella, or perhaps Akatosh, that the lever and whatever contraption it was, would return him to the surface.

Hissing filled his ears and overwhelmed senses, though not so much as the light that filtered weakly in through the dwarven metal bars. Cold air followed that light and he shivered, realizing how unprepared he was now for the inclimate weather. Another lever opened the double doors and he stared out at the world beyond. He wasn't far from where he had started, which seemed ironic. Though he could spy his own frozen footsteps, he felt as though he'd traveled to Cyrodiil and back. Fingers grasped weakly at the metal and he staggered across the tundra until he could seek the opening that had begun the trek, days before.

Had it been days? It felt like years. Truly, he knew not the passage of time. But, he ventured down until that cloak he'd shed could be found and draped about his shoulders. That would stave off the cold for as long as it took to walk toward civilization. He would trade coin and jewelry for repairs to his armor and he would seek respite to heal from the horrors that dwelt within his mind. 

And then he would venture into this Blackreach that he'd very nearly died to discover. What lay below? Only the Falmer knew, for the moment. But, he would be keen to discover it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief interlude, before Ahren embarks on his quest to Blackreach (and all the chaos and shenanigans contained within)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This is the first time I've posted anything remotely NSFW on here. That being said, this particular story is not going to have it happen often. But, our intrepid warrior deserved a much-needed break with the bewitching and lovely Lydia.

The trudging, endless trek to Winterhold felt as though he was being punished for his insolence. The pale, winter sun hinted at the warmth he so took for granted whilst lounging about in the Reach, but never quite blessed the frozen expanse of land. The snow seemed to swirl and dance from all directions, as he crunched through it, praying that the ground beneath was solid, and not merely an illusion that would see him to an avalanche and early grave. Too many adventurers had been foolishly bold in their wanderings about the northern climes, never to be seen again. 

Or, if they were discovered, they were frozen husks that gave testament to the unforgiving nature of Nirn.

There were precious few places to pause for respite, though it was not for lack of seeking them out. Losing digits to frostbite was a sorry excuse to see an end to adventuring. And, while the guards joked about taking arrows to the knee, he held no desire to join them in their rote patrols about landscapes that held no promise of further glories.

Only laments of regret for chances robbed.

There was blessing, he supposed, in being able to conjure meager flame from his fingertips. He was no battlemage, to wield the mystical arts as those within the College could, but Ahren was not without knowledge. During his brief bouts of rest, to catch breath and make certain he did not freeze his lungs, he removed boots and warmed his feet, one at a time. It helped. What would aid, yet further, would be reaching Winterhold e're the sun set. Night upon the tundra would be excruciatingly frigid.

Alas, fate was not truly on his side. The frail light that fought valiantly to cast its meager heat across the endless, snow-covered landscape, sank and, with it, his heart. Ahren doubled his pace, disliking being in the elements. There were yet creatures that would gladly see him for a tasty snack, if he did not reach the stone boundaries of the forsaken village. He could hear them in the frozen silence, seeking out food where they may, and held no desire to be discovered. Every carefully crunching step seemed to echo in the frosty, twilight gloom and he grimaced, hating that he could not just take flight like the birds that had graced the leaden sky, before following the sun to wherever it was they sought refuge in such a sparsely populated landscape.

When the well-traveled, ice- and snow-covered road finally came into view, Ahren very nearly sagged in relief. He was close now. Exhaustion was etched into every line and movement, but he pressed on. The inn awaited him. She was there, too. Ah, but perhaps he should have had her accompany, even if the trek back to civilization had been brutal. Ahren considered it, then. He would ask her to join him upon his return. Blackreach would be considerably warmer than the world above it, and her prowess with the blade would be a welcome bit of relief for whatever might lay beneath the endless expanse of ice and stone.

Woodsmoke drifted lazily in the evening air and he stumbled toward the inn, pushing past what lingering ache from the trek he yet had. The stone pillars greeted him with their ice-covered sheen, glittering like stars fallen to earth. He daren't touch, of course, lest he find himself stuck to the frozen stone. But the knowledge that there would be guards patrolling the village road that led to the College, kept him from worrying about anything creeping up from behind. There was safety in the towns, something that he had come to appreciate. And, while there was not the defensible wall, as Whiterun or Solitude had, those who held nefarious intent seemed to steer clear of the combined might of those who bore the village colors upon their maille.

Well-trodden ice and slush squished about his boots, as he made his way to the worn, wooden railing that led to the inn. It took concentrated effort to see himself up the ramshackle steps, but he pushed the door open and greeted the sudden wall of heat from the central fire. It was overwhelming and he found he had to grasp the doorframe, lest he collapse from the intensity of it. She was there, pulling him in by the arm and shutting the door behind him. The cold was left behind, and he sagged a little, relief and exhaustion threatening to claim him completely. 

"Come, my Thane." She soothed, guiding the warrior to the room they had rented. The inn, being what it was, had but one room that could house two souls; thus they shared a bed. "There is stew that's been recently prepared. Are you hungry?"

Famished, he wanted to say. But he shook his head. No, sleep was a necessary priority. He followed her gamely to their shared room, ignored when she shut the door, and set his weapons and bag of treasure down upon the floor. Lydia unbuckled his pauldrons and set them aside, before moving to aid him in seeing him from his chestplate. "This will require repair before we set out again." She murmured softly. Taking note of the exhaustion marring his features, she would tend his needs whilst he slept. "At least you are not bruised, or otherwise injured."

Ahren scoffed, reduced to little more than his smallclothes. Touching her shoulder affectionately, he started toward the bed and the warmth that it promised within the furs. "I availed myself of all the healing potions and powers I had to see wounds healed." She shook her head and covered him, aware that the warrior was asleep before he was even fully covered. 

He knew not what day it was when next he awoke, but Lydia was not at his side. It was clear she had slept, as the furs had been moved. His stomach and bladder both reminded him that he had needs beyond exhausted sleep to attend. Rising, he found his simple breeches in the packs that had remained with his carl. A tunic was pulled over sleep-mussed hair and he found his leather boots to keep the chill from his feet. Padding quietly into the main hall, he spied the buxom brunette and settled next to her at the small table. A bowl of stew and mug of mead were placed before him and he inhaled the thick, pungent aroma. Potatoes and carrots swam in the dense broth, and he suspected rabbit might have been the star ingredient. Though, it could have been skeever and he'd not have cared any less. Ahren tucked in, ignoring the crackle of the fire and the sound of the lute being played across the space. For that moment, all that existed was the stew.

Two bowls later, Ahren shifted and rested his back against the table so he could face the central fire and warm himself more evenly. Full, rested and warm, there was but one more thing he required. A hot bath. Staring into the dancing embers, he let himself become hypnotized for a long moment. Lydia roused him, reminding him that they were not in the little hovel near the entrance to Whiterun and he huffed wryly.

"I am to the bath." He stood slowly, stretching. The meaning, if not the words, was clear. He desired her presence, within the basement of the inn. It was considerably warmer there, and he knew there would be no interruption. None, beyond the innkeeper and his bard were keeping residence within the aged, Nordic building. He made his way down and rumbled softly, admiring that they had found a way to bring the dwemer-style of heated baths into such a location. Clearly, either the innkeeper or another who had ventured this far north, had seen such innovation and had wanted to grant such a boon to those who chose to spend their coin. And, Ahren? He had ample coin to spend for such luxury.

Glancing at Lydia, he stripped down and climbed into the heated depths, resting against the warm stone. Beneath, he knew, a constant flame kept the water comfortable. And, as there were no other guests, the waters were clean and free of the remnants of their former occupants. He watched, unashamed, as Lydia disrobed. She had chosen to remain in a simple tunic and breeches, as well, given she was not in battle. It amazed him, as she bared herself for the bath, that one who wielded a blade with such deadly accuracy could be gifted with such a blessed form.

She lowered herself into the tub and echoed Ahren's sigh of bliss. There truly was no greater joy than that of a hot bath. Ahren huffed amusement at the languor she displayed and rumbled. "You act as though you have faced down a dragon and lived to tell the tale."

Chocolate eyes fluttered open and fixed him with an amused glare. "I have been idle, these past days, while I await my wayward Thane to return from his errand." Lydia paused, gaze drifting beneath the rippling waters. "Have you needs to be attended?"

Had he known that such was even an option, upon becoming Thane of a hold, Ahren would have sought such pleasures out far sooner. Though, he suspected Lydia offered him something that was not commonly given. Still, being one who had been raised within a temple, Ahren found himself unwilling to decline such a delectable offer. He held a hand out for his fellow warrior, gently pulling her closer, and cupped a damp breast with a callous-roughened palm. "I would not say not to such offer."

It was, of a certainty, that fornicating within the baths was probably frowned upon. But, in that moment, Ahren neither cared nor bothered with seeing them to better accommodations. His thumb traced a rosy nipple and he smiled at the first sigh of pleasure that escaped her plump lips. "I seek to pleasure you, my Thane. Not the other way around." She said softly, voice husky with want.

"Can I not find pleasure by giving you the same?" The words were murmured against dripping flesh, before catching the pert nub lightly between his lips and teeth. Elegant fingers caught in his shaggy hair, holding him in place, while he laved at the sensitive flesh, earning soft, gasped pleas for more. Ah, but he had missed this. They had refrained in their trek from Whiterun to Winterhold, as there had been precious few places to pause for pleasure. He slid a hand between them, where she straddled his hips, and sought to press his thumb against her jewel. 

"My Thane..." She gasped and arched her delicately muscled form, pressing more firmly against the questing hand. And, who was he to deny such a delicious plea? Even with the water encasing her lower half, she was slick and nearly ready for him. A finger sank into heated folds and the warriors both groaned softly. "I have been entertaining such thoughts while you were gone." She panted, riding his finger with short, aborted thrusts. 

"You are not alone in such ideas." No, she truly wasn't. The brief moments of respite whilst in the ruin had seen him pondering her curves and recalling honeyed taste upon tongue. "I will have you again within the bed." He rumbled softly, because he knew she quite enjoyed the skill he held with lips and tongue upon her center. "I suspect we will need to find alternate lodgings when I am finished with you."

Lydia exhaled a shaky laugh. "Had I not already indulged in your skill, I would question your claim." 

Ahren took that as his cue and removed fingers, slick and warm, from her body. Lydia grasped him, then, stroking his cock to full hardness beneath the water. Eyes closed briefly, allowing him to focus as her heat encased him completely. In this, he gave her a measure of control. She set the pace, lithe form sliding up and down over his girth. Nails found purchase against broad shoulders, and she clung to him, gasping her pleasure against his ear. He held her close, using the base of the tub to rest feet that he might thrust up as she rode down the length of his cock, driving her pleasure up yet further. Catching a nipple lightly between his teeth, he flicked his tongue across the sensitive flesh, earning a softly, ragged moan from deep within her chest. Her pleasure first, he had found, made seeking his own all the more worthwhile. 

And, before long, he could feel the way she quivered about his length, signaling her release. He pulled back to watch as the pleasure enraptured her. Gods, but she was beautiful. The flush darkened the dusky peaks and she shivered, body milking him as he finally gave himself to the task of seeking his own pleasure. With such a vision above him, slowly coming down from her orgasm, it did not take long before he was burying his face against her throat, groaning as the release so long denied, threatened to overwhelm. She held him, petting his hair, while he came back to himself. And then she chuckled softly.

"At least we are already in the bath." 

Ahren huffed against her salty skin and pressed a quick, warm kiss to her breast. "We will be dirtying the water again, soon enough." 

"And after?"

"After, we have a quest ahead of us."

"Wherever you desire, my Thane."

"Blackreach. Everything seems to be pointing to Blackreach."

Lydia slowly rose from the water, after cleaning herself once more. Reaching for a towel, she gave her warrior a long look. "Then, that is where we shall go."


End file.
